Read Online The Outcast by Michael Walters - Free Book Online Page A

street towards the centre.”
    â€œWhat time would this have been?” Nergui asked.
    â€œNot sure. Twelve? Twelve thirty, maybe? I had to be at HQ for two, so something like that. Wanted time for the coffee.”
    â€œGo on.”
    â€œI got near the square, and I heard a lot of noise. Shouting. Crowds of people, it sounded like. I didn’t know what was happening.”
    â€œWhat did you see?”
    â€œI was still a few blocks away. I could just hear the noise. Not the kind of noise you expect to hear at twelve thirty on a …” He stopped. “What day was it?”
    â€œWednesday,” Nergui said. “Today’s Thursday.”
    â€œThat’s right,” Tunjin said, as though confirming Nergui’s lucky guess. “Not the kind of noise you expect to hear at that time on a Wednesday.”
    â€œBut then you saw the crowd?”
    â€œEventually, yes. It was a smaller crowd than it sounded, actually, the shouting was echoing around the buildings so it sounded as if there were more of them. But still a lot for that time on a Wednesday.”
    â€œWhat happened then?”
    Tunjin paused. The memories had been coming back clearly, but suddenly they were fading again, like a film unexpectedly going out of focus. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Let me think. I had to go through the square to get to work, so I carried on walking forward.”
    â€œIs this what you’re remembering, or what you think should have happened?”
    â€œI don’t know.” Tunjin closed his eyes again, willing the images to return, seeking confidence that he was recalling reality rather than assumptions. “Yes, I can remember. I walked forward down there. I remember stepping into the sunlight as I made my way down the street. The crowd was clustered at this end of the square, near to the government buildings.” He stopped once more, now visualising the white faces of their banners and placards. “It was a protest,” he said. “Against the government. About corruption. Selling off our heritage. The usual stuff.” He was trying to retrace the pattern of his thoughts during those moments. “It wasn’t something we’d been warned about. The protest, I mean. No one had told the police. Or, if they had, no one had bothered to tell me.Or I hadn’t bothered to listen.” He shrugged, “That happens sometimes.”
    â€œSo I recall,” Nergui said. “What happened next?”
    â€œI was standing at the edge of the square, wondering how many people there were. How long they were going to be there. Whether there was any chance of me being able to squeeze my way through to the bar.” He was staring up at the blank white of the ceiling, trying to envisage the scene. There was still no sign of the spider. “I stood there for a while. Then I saw someone I recognised.”
    â€œOne of the crowd?”
    â€œNo. One of the police officers patrolling the edge of the square. There were a few uniforms—not many. I don’t think the police knew quite how to handle it.”
    â€œWe’re not used to this freedom of expression,” Nergui said.
    â€œThat’s the trouble,” Tunjin went on, “nobody knows quite how to behave at these things. Nobody. The protesters. The police. We’re making it up as we go along. Anyway, yes, it was one of the uniforms. We’d worked together a couple of times. So I went up to him and we chatted. I was just asking him what it was all about.”
    â€œWho was he? The uniform?”
    Tunjin frowned, momentarily halted by an unexpectedly difficult question. He concentrated hard, wondering why his memory had stuttered at what should have been the easiest question. “There were two of them,” he said, suddenly. “Two uniforms. I knew one of them. I don’t know his name, but you can track him down easily enough. He works out of the city-central